


the ember of my heart

by dizzyondreams



Category: Mr Robot (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Insecurity, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Referenced past abuse, allusions to past episodes, tender!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9396635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyondreams/pseuds/dizzyondreams
Summary: Elliot and Leon break routine for the day to watch Back to the Future II and smoke up---“You’re not destined for pain, my guy, no one is,” Leon said, and Elliot could tell he was watching the movie because his skin wasn’t crawling. “But you’ll get it if you keep believing it.”Elliot didn’t reply, because his head was stuffed full of cotton wool and words were dying somewhere between his larynx and his tongue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for allusions to past abuse by elliot's mother

It started an average day. Elliot followed his morning routine, woke up, made his bed, headed to the diner to meet Leon for breakfast. He’d already ordered for him by the time he got there, a little late, breathless. Two eggs, sunny side up, toast, hash browns. Mr Robot hadn’t been around in a couple days, and Elliot was feeling distinctly less edgy when he slid into the booth and nodded at Leon in greeting. 

“Thanks.” He muttered, and Leon grinned at him, wide and easy.

“I know what you like by now, cuz.” He replied, and Elliot glanced away, running a hand through his hair as he tried to formulate a response. Nothing came, so he didn’t say anything, just dug into his food. It was just the right side of too greasy, and the plastic seat of the booth creaked as Leon sat back. Elliot mapped the curve of his throat, his smile tugged to the side, warm brown eyes, in a practiced way. Quick, careful glances, then dropped his gaze back to his food. 

Leon was talking about Seinfeld, and he sounded like he was coming from very far away. Everything had been a little removed, lately. Elliot tried not to worry about it, willing his brain not to kick into overdrive to begin wondering _why_. It took him a minute to realise that Leon had stopped talking, and he glanced up in question to find Leon staring at him expectantly. _Shit._ He was missing things again.

“What?” He asked, and Leon clicked his tongue and tipped his head back in mock-agony. Or at least, Elliot hoped it wasn’t real. It was getting harder and harder to tell what was and wasn’t, recently. Leon must have spotted the creeping worry on his face, because he leaned across the table to shove him lightly on the shoulder. Elliot let him, barely flinching away. His palm was big, comforting, and Elliot tried to remember the last time touch was comforting to him. Before his dad died, maybe. Now even Darlene’s embraces were too much, but that wasn’t her fault. “What?” He repeated.

“I said,” Leon said, and Elliot watched his lips move. “Let’s do something different today.”

Elliot’s brain whirred, like an overheated unit, as he ran quickly and silently through every single bad thing that could happen as a result of breaking routine. Mr Robot could make an appearance, could overpower him, something bad could happen, right? The routine was there for a reason, and his hand was clenching so tight around his fork at the mere thought that it hurt.

“I was thinking we should chill, watch some dope movie,” Leon continued, completely unaware of Elliot’s quiet meltdown, and as he talked Elliot felt his hand unclench from around his fork. “We could smoke up, dude, my ma is out-”

“You live with your mom?” Elliot interrupted, surprising the both of them. Leon smiled, genuine and warm, and Elliot felt something in his chest unwind. 

“Yeah, man, gotta look after your mom, right?”

Elliot didn’t reply, because he couldn’t relate. He just nodded, like he understood a son’s protectiveness of their mother, like his mother hadn’t put cigarettes out on his arms. “Sure.” He said, and Leon grinned.

Leon is a good person, he thought. Leon was safe, he looked out for him when people came around picking fights, he noticed when Elliot was starting to unravel and talked until he was back again. Breaking his routine would be okay if it was with Leon, right? Even if Mr Robot came back, Elliot wasn’t sure he could hurt him too bad if Leon was there.

“We should watch Back to the Future II.” He offered, and Leon smiled so big Elliot couldn’t help but smile too.

\-----

Leon’s apartment was cramped but tidy, and Elliot examined the pictures of him on the wall as he waited for him to sort through his DVD collection. Elliot would offer to download it for him, but he couldn’t let himself be around computers just yet, so instead he lost time studying Leon’s baby pictures. Leon, maybe six or seven, no front teeth but a huge grin. Another of him being held by a woman with his gentle eyes, both of them beaming out of the picture frame. Elliot’s chest felt funny and tight, like he’d already taken a hit from the joint that Leon had burning down between his fingers.

The smoke in the air was making him feel foggy, which normally would make him panic but now he embraced. It had been so long, not since he’d kicked morphine, for sure. He’d used to smoke a lot, to calm himself down, but then smoking alone got too depressing. And then Shayla-

Elliot turned away from the photos, locking that shit down fast. 

Leon was crouched by the TV, and Elliot stared at the way his t-shirt stretched over his shoulder blades. The joint was burning in an ashtray on the coffee table now, and Elliot took a seat on the sunken sofa as he reached for it. The first hit made him cough, and Leon laughed at him as he sat back on his heels to watch. Elliot flipped him off, tried again and held the smoke deep in his chest. He needed this. He wanted to unwind, with Leon, wanted to not deal with his fucking brain for a little while. Weed mellowed him out, made his thoughts a little less crazyfast and paranoid.

Leon settled in beside him when the title screen came up, held his hand out wordlessly for the joint. Elliot took another hit and passed it, their fingers brushing.

“This is my favourite movie.” He said slowly, tightly, smoke in his lungs. He exhaled, already feeling a little lightheaded. Weightless. It had been a while. Leon was warm against his side, and Elliot was struck again by the feeling of safety in his touch. He relaxed into the couch in fractions, splaying his knees as he slumped down.

‘Oh, yeah?” Leon’s voice was low, amused, and Elliot nodded without looking at him. Leon’s gaze on him felt like ants crawling on his skin, and Elliot pulled his hood over his head, uncomfortable. He’d never liked people looking at him, anxious of what they might see if they looked too long. “How come you’ve sat through hours of me talkin’ Seinfeld and never mentioned shit you’re into?”

Elliot shrugged one shoulder, reached for the joint. “Not important, I guess.” He eyed Leon out of the corner of his eye as he inhaled, the smoke burning his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was raspy with it. “Can’t get a word in edgewise anyway.”

Leon laughed, a startled sound, like he couldn’t believe Elliot had just cracked a joke. Sinking further into the couch, Elliot smiled to himself, furtive. 

“Oh, you all pleased now?” Leon murmured, mouth still tipped into a lazy grin as he leaned forward to peek at Elliot past his hood. “Funny guy, huh?”

Elliot didn’t reply, just shut his eyes and exhaled, a smile tugging at his mouth. He felt Leon lean back, and when he blinked open his eyes and looked, he was lounging back against the sofa, knee pulled to his chest. He was rangy and lean, and Elliot took another generous hit as his eyes jumped from bony collarbone to delicate wrist to boyish grin. He turned back to the movie, passed the joint, and managed to not jump when Leon leaned his weight against his side.

Half an hour passed, mindlessly, easily. The air was blue with smoke, and Leon’s voice was shot when he said, “You know, this is a real glance into your psyche and all that, you know?”

“Yeah?” Elliot murmured, pleasantly stoned enough to pull his hood down and face Leon. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it out, and couldn’t miss the way Leon’s gaze dropped to his mouth before he replied. “How so?”

“Sure.” He replied, as slow and lethargic as Elliot felt. “You’d go into the future just to save future-you, right?”

Elliot frowned, and then laughed. It surprised him a little, and Leon too, presumably. His eyes were interested and sharp on Elliot, making him feel more real, solid. “I don’t think I’d want to meet any incarnation of me.” Elliot said, deadpan, and Leon rolled his eyes with a grin. 

“I would.” He said seriously, grin fading, and Elliot stared at him for a minute as the words rolled around his brain. Leon stubbed out the end of the second joint into the ashtray on the table, and gave Elliot a minute to formulate a response as he rolled another.

“I don’t think you would.” He murmured eventually, mind flicking through the disjointed collage of his childhood and teenage years. Leon didn’t need to know those ugly parts of him.

“Don’t bet on it.” Leon said lightly, eyes on his joint. “You got a pretty face, boy, but I wanna know the rest of you.”

“You’re wrong.” Elliot said, low, almost a whisper. He was watching Leon, free now his eyes weren’t on him. His nimble fingers, full lips as he wet the joint with the tip of his tongue. Elliot was thinking about Shayla, again, guiltily like he usually did. She’d told him off for asking, but she was a girl, so maybe it was different, right? Would Leon be mad, if he? Elliot couldn’t verbalise it, but his mind was a loop of Leon’s gentle eyes, the arc of his collarbones and the way Elliot’s mother’s cigarette sunk into his arm. Glowing cherry meeting olive skin, and the pain so bright Elliot could taste it. Leon wouldn’t hurt him like that, he knew. He thought of Shayla, throat red and wet and gaping like another mouth, and felt his stomach drop. “Everyone who knows me gets hurt.”

Leon shrugged easily, eyes roving over Elliot’s face as he raised the newly lit joint to his mouth. The movie was playing in the background, and it felt very far away for Elliot. He watched Leon exhale, and clenched his fists on his thighs with the intensity of a foreign and unfamiliar _want_ that was building behind his eyeballs, his tongue, his navel. “You look stressed, cuz.” Leon murmured, and when he passed the joint Elliot took it gratefully, quickly. He watched as Elliot took a hit, until Elliot had to pull his hood further over his face and turn away. “You’re not destined for pain, my guy, no one is,” Leon said, and Elliot could tell he was watching the movie because his skin wasn’t crawling. “But you’ll get it if you keep believing it.”

Elliot didn’t reply, because his head was stuffed full of cotton wool and words were dying somewhere between his larynx and his tongue. Eventually, he managed, “The scene where Biff tries to kill Marty used to scare the shit out of me as a kid.” He remembered his sweaty hand clutching Angela’s on the sofa of his childhood home, heart thumping in his chest in childish fear and anticipation. 

Leon’s laugh was stoned and dopey, and he tipped his head against the back of the sofa to grin at Elliot. “Word?” Elliot shrugged one shoulder, lowered his hood when Leon laughed again, sprawling back against the arm of the sofa as he got comfortable. “Shit, you’re a weird guy, Elliot.”

Elliot ran his hand over his hair, neck and ears feeling warm under the weight of Leon’s gaze. He gave him a sidelong glance, feeling distinctly warm under his hoodie when he met Leon’s eyes. For a minute, neither of them said anything. The movie filled the silence, close and almost suffocating with its weight. Then Leon blinked and shifted to toss the roach in the ashtray, and Elliot found himself free of the hypnosis of his eyes. “I think I’m a little stoned.” He said, hazily, slowly, and Leon’s answering laugh sounded like it was coming from down a long tunnel.

“Feels good though, yeah?” He said, low voice husky in a way that made Elliot’s stomach twist. A good twist, not the guilt pain, nothing like the morphine withdrawal hurt. He tugged his hoodie off, suddenly too warm, and didn’t miss the way Leon watched. “You’re not freaking out?”

“No.” Elliot said shortly, curling into the orbit of Leon’s body, laying his weighted weightless head on the back of the sofa. “I’m good.” Shayla had said it was lame to ask, but she was dead now and a rapidly fading memory in his sieve of a mind. It was lame to ask, but maybe Leon wouldn’t mind because he never judged Elliot like other people did. Bandage around his head, fucked out on Adderall, screaming and shouting and flatlining, it didn’t matter. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, voice sounding like it was underwater, miles and years away.

Leon’s smile was gradual, eventually blinding, and when he nodded and tipped his head to the side, Elliot thought this heart might burst in his chest. He hadn’t felt like this in a very long time. Slowly, stoned, he kneeled until he was hovering over Leon. Long and lean and leonine, he levelled Elliot with a gaze that was almost challenging. Time seemed to slow, and maybe it was the drugs but Elliot could feel every atom he pushed through to cradle Leon’s face as he leaned down and caught Leon’s lips in a kiss.

It was sweet and brief, and Elliot leaned back with wide eyes to see how Leon would react. Leon’s eyes were heavy lidded, warm, and he tipped his cheek into Elliot’s touch with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Kiss me again.” He murmured, hand coming up to grip a hold of Elliot’s bare bicep. Emboldened, Elliot dipped his head to kiss him again, and again and again. Leon’s hand was tight on Elliot’s arm, his mouth so sweet and gentle. Elliot held him like something precious, something rising behind his eyes, in his throat, that he couldn’t name. He thought he might cry, couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him except to hurt him. 

“Fuck.” He mumbled, and Leon gripped him hard by the back of the neck and pulled him closer. Elliot wasn’t sure whether to be overwhelmed by the contact of chest to chest, or comforted. It felt so good not to be alone after so long that he had to pull back to breathe. Leon’s eyes were hazy on his, his fingers gentle on the nape of Elliot’s neck. Elliot’s thumbs were pressed into the hollows of his jaw, and he kissed him again just because he could. He felt drunk on it, the weed making him lazy and deliberate in his movements. The movie played in the background, loud and almost obnoxious compared to the sensation of Leon’s mouth on his.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask, cuz.” Leon murmured when Elliot moved away to press a kiss to his jaw, his adam’s apple, the hollow of his throat. 

“Why?” Elliot asked, against the skin of his throat. He smelt overwhelmingly safe, like laundry detergent and soap, and Elliot decided that if he loved anything it was this. For the first time in too long he felt _normal_. 

Leon didn’t reply, just kissed him again. A slow press, almost too gentle. This wasn’t casual, Elliot could feel it down to his bones. This tiny, cluttered room, heavy with the smell of smoke and intimate in its closeness. Elliot felt wrapped up in it, wrapped up in the press of Leon’s mouth to his and his fingers to the top of his spine.

“We missed the movie.” Leon said finally, lazily, and Elliot pressed his forehead to Leon’s. The room was swimming, so he closed his eyes, let it tilt crazily beyond the safe darkness. 

“I’ve seen it a thousand times.” He murmured, over-aware of his mouth. Leon breathed out slowly, his fingers stroking gently through the short hair on the nape of Elliot’s neck. The world paused, still, holding its breath. Leon kissed him again, a soft press of lips and tongues and Elliot made a noise against Leon’s mouth when he caught his lip between his teeth.

“We’ll watch it again.” Leon said, righting himself from where he’d slumped down against Elliot’s body. Elliot sat back on his heels, suddenly unsure. Leon seemed to sense this, adept at reading people as he was (and this was the side of Leon that Elliot could never understand, how he read Elliot like he’d known him for a lifetime), and adjusted the two of them so Elliot was lying against his chest. Their feet were tangled together, sweet and close, and Elliot closed his eyes and listened to the thump of Leon’s chest as it reverberated through him.

They watched the end of the movie in silence, Leon’s hand smoothing gently through Elliot’s hair.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading! elleon is the sweetest and the best, i love LOVE?
> 
> comments r always stellar :^)


End file.
